


After the Sunsets

by wehavefound



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Based of the Musical Bright Star, Brief Depictions of Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27164981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wehavefound/pseuds/wehavefound
Summary: In 1923 in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina there are certain standards of decorum a proper young woman is expected to follow. When barefoot Alice turns up on his front porch unattended to inform Jasper that she's expecting to be asked to next month's dance she doesn't follow any of them.
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16
Collections: Jalice Week 2020





	1. Woah, Mama

**Author's Note:**

> Okay has anyone here seen bright star? or heard the soundtrack? Please tell me someone has. It's such an amazing musical and the main character is named Alice anyway so... this seemed appropriate for Yeehaw day in Jalice week. Really more rural country than strictly yeehaw but I think it can be forgiven.

Jasper’s plan for the evening was to have some quiet time to himself, polish his boots, perhaps read a book about the city lent to him against his fathers wishes.

Evidently, Alice’s plan was to become the talk of the town. She was perched in an incredibly unladylike manner on porch, swinging her bare feet back and forth as though she had not a care in the world for the harm she was doing or the decorum expected of a young girl such as herself. Though they had grown up together they had never particularly been close given her stubborn insistence on flouting the rules of polite society and Jasper’s strict upbringing.

“You oughta know better than to be here,” he said as he approached, steadfastly refusing to look at her. “What would everybody think? You better run home now.”

“Why, you’re going to ask me to the dance next month. Now how are ya meant do do that if I’m not even here?” Alice leaped daintily off the railing, seeming to float her way over to a mere three feet away from him and leaning against the peeling white paint of the door.

“No, I’m not. Someone will, I’m sure, a pretty girl like yourself. It won’t be me.” The absolute nerve of this girl, showing up at his home when it was just the two of them to demand he ask her to dance. As if the town wouldn’t talk for days about her impropriety. Not that he would share of course, he wouldn’t want her to be punished for being too forwards. The town didn’t take kindly to such matters.

“Why, I’m just a young girl, Jasper. I’d quite like to go dancing with the handsomest boy in town.” He unlocked his door and the short girl seemed to think she would be allowed in, as though it was at all suitable for her to invite herself into a man’s private home. A stern look from him discouraged her and soon enough she was rubbing her hand along the smooth wood railing an appropriate distance away.

“Listen here, Mary-Alice. You’re a smart little pixie and you’re gonna make an absolute fool of some lucky man. He’ll look at you like you hung the stars themselves, dote on your every word. But if you think that’s going to be me then you’re beyond yourself. Go run along now, I have evening activities to attend to.”

She was an incredibly fine young lady, hair cut short from when she had caught it on a bridge she was clambering over only the month before. Not that he was aware of what she was doing when they had barely spoken a word to each other before this. He was busy, working on convincing his father to let him ride down to the nearby city for a few months, working on learning his father’s job as mayor. He had no time for pretty women with eyes that captivated and a spirit that refused to be broken.

“You’re wrong,” she said laughing. “I think you’re gonna buzz around me like a little bumble bee and I can’t wait to see that day. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you.”

“Well you’re gonna be waiting an awful long time considering I’m not asking you to this dance, or any others for that matter.”

“I’ll see you at eight that Saturday when you pick me up. Put a nice shirt on,” she winked as she slipped past him, brushing his sleeve with her arm, and swaying her way down the old dirt road back to town.

The absolute nerve of this girl, thinking she could come here and tell him what he was or wasn’t gonna do. The disrespect! Just because she smelled like roses and tilted her head just so she thought he was gonna fall in love with her! Just because she was such a firecracker, because she cared nothing for what the town thought! As though his father would ever allow such a thing.

Not that he wanted it of course. He was perfectly content to keep to himself, to dream of the city he would explore just as soon as his father let him. He didn’t need a sweetheart now. He was fine alone.

She came over the next day as well. And the next. By the end of the week she was sporting a light bruise on her cheek, courtesy of her father’s outrage at her impropriety. Had he himself really been that outraged the first day? It seemed so silly now, made his blood boil that she had been struck for daring to return home slightly late. She never came in, never even looked like she might after that initial moment on the first day. She merely perched on the railing, swinging her bare feet back and forth as she chatted.

“Do you ever think about the future?” she asked him on the fourth day she was there.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. He kept to himself mostly, not particularly in the habit of sharing such personal wishes. Something about her was just so calming it was impossible to stay closed off. “I’d like to go on up to the big city, see what it’s like. Get out of this town for a while, see how I like it. It’d be nice if I ever could.”

“Why don’t you?”

“My father, he thinks I need to settle down. Says when he was my age my granddaddy was already training him in taking over his job as mayor. It’s my job to take up the mantle. I suppose I will one day but I’d like to see what’s out there before I can’t leave.”

He didn’t mention that his father desperately wanted him to marry a nice fine girl already. Alice was considered strange in town, her refusal to act like a proper young lady and her fierce curiosity meant that she was not considered eligible to be the well-bred wife his father wanted him to get.

“I’d like to be a reporter,” she said. “Go somewhere where nobody cares that I’m a lady and work a real job, outside the house. But my ma says there’s no such place, that I need to act right before its too late for me.” 

He found himself wishing there was such a place for her. She was a clever girl, always aching to reach beyond the confines of the rural town. They weren’t really so difference in the end—only if he could convince his father to let him go there would be nothing stopping him. She would have no such luck.

That night he found that he could not concentrate on his readings, turning over that little bruise on her face until it filled him with anger. He may have thought it was a touch improper when she turned up at his house too but not enough to strike her hard enough to leave a mark. She had not ventured inside, had not stepped closer than a few feet away. She didn’t deserve to be injured for such a thing.

They fell into an easy habit. She would sit on the porch swing and run her hands over the smooth fabric of her dresses. He would sit on the chair down below the steps among the bushes and read his books out loud. She’d pipe in with questions and interjections, occasionally interesting enough to result in a conversation that left the book forgotten on his lap. Sometimes she would bring a book she managed to get ahold of, making him read it all the same.

The day his father caught word of these affairs was not an enjoyable one. He pushed him against the wall, screaming in his face about the behavior expected of the mayor’s son. About how he needed to settle down with a eligible woman and quit focusing on his flights of fancy, of reading, of wanting to travel. 

That week it was Jasper with a visible bruise. If he seemed quieter than usual well, his downcast mood could not last long in the face of Alice’s happy joy. She seemed to drag him into happiness. That was the first day she reached her hand out to him and as he took it he felt true hope for the first time in a long time. She was living proof that he did not have to be what was expected of him. That happiness could be found outside what he had always thought were the only possible options.

Their relationship moved faster after that first touch until soon they were stealing kisses when none were around, tracing fingertips over wrists, and looking at each other with longing. If anyone in the town knew the extent to which they fell in love their future together would be over but Jasper couldn’t find himself to care. They could pass judgement all they wanted while he had her hand safe in his. He cared only for her, father be dammned.

He asked her to the dance just over two weeks later as they sat side by side on the porch swing and he knew he’d treasure the sheer happiness on her face forever. Mary-Alice Brandon had a way of worming herself into people’s hearts and the quiet soft-spoken mayor’s son was no exception. Her energy was contagious and Jasper found he could not help but want to be around such a happy carefree woman.

His father wasn’t pleased but then, it was only a dance, to be chaperoned by the town’s doctor and his wife and held in the main square. One night together in public would do no irreparable damage to Jasper’s reputation and so, after much arguing, his father conceded the point.

When the time came he dressed in his finest shirt and picked her up from her house at eight. She looked radiant, her dress a soft beautiful affair that served to accent her undeniable beauty and matched smartly with his bow tie. They were both forest green, a more muted color than was the fashion for bow ties but undeniably handsome. The dark color made her pitch black hair seem to shine even brighter and her mother’s gold necklace served to highlight her collarbones.

It was clear she had chosen well when they arrived. The other pairs looked lovely but none were so radiant as Alice and Jasper as they dipped and twirled around the makeshift dance floor. The upbeat numbers were fun, yes, it was when the first slow song that came on that Jasper began to enjoy the atmosphere in earnest.

They didn’t make it the entire night. He was only human and so when Alice let her hands wander a little too far for public company he excused himself to walk the lady home. In reality, there was much less walking than there was touching and they weren’t yet halfway home when Alice took him by the arm and led him down to a beautiful secluded spot on the banks of the river.

“Don’t you just wish we could stay here together, just the two of us?” she asked as Jasper kissed her neck.

“Darlin’ what could be better than holding you close to me? I could never want for anything else,” he replied, hands continuing to roam far more than was appropriate.

“I’ll be in trouble if I stay out late again,” she said, though she seemed to have no desire to leave.

“Ten more minutes in my arms won’t do any harm.” Though he would have returned her to her home instantly, Alice didn’t seem interested in any more disagreement than was expected of a young woman and so her lips found his in the darkness.

They made love that night, bodies joining together in bliss on the soft grass of the riverbank. Her hands, wrapped around his torso. Her lips seeking his as their bodies moved. It was natural and right and the fierce love he had found for Alice cemented itself even further in his soul. He could never want another the way he wanted her, no matter what was expected of him.

When their detour had ended, he delivered her to her front porch as a gentleman would. Her mother was peeking out the window and so she pressed only one chaste kiss to his cheek before she left him standing alone and when he ran his fingers over the lingering sensation of his lips he knew she had predicted the future correctly.

He loved her.


	2. I Can't Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i forgot about this fic for like two months :(

By the time he heard of his father’s plan, Alice had already been sent away and the Brandons were avoiding any public situation that would bring this to light. His father was furious, worried about his good name being tarnished if their entanglement were known, if anyone saw the simple truth he and his father were both painfully aware of: he loved her.

A simple fling his father could forgive under the recklessness of youth, fixable with money and swept under the rug as so many indiscretions were. The behavior was unfortunate but a fact of life. The emotions were unforgivable. His refusal to capitulate, to accept his father’s wishes was even more so and thus when he went to see her, he went sporting bruises and marks down his arm, a purple ring of finger shaped bruises around his neck difficult to conceal in the hot heat of summer.

The cabin was almost a full day’s journey away, far enough to grow nervous on the trip. It had been two long months since he had last seen her, six weeks since he discovered she was sent away instead of visiting family as he had been told. It took a while to discover where she had gone, though it made sense when he realized. The cabin was an open secret, tucked far away from the town itself, although the nearby train route made it possible to visit with relative ease. There were certain things gentlemen in good standing should not be known to do and so it served as a convenient place to hide impropriety, used by various members of the town for all sorts of sorid affairs. It burned his blood, to think that Alice was considered such. She was an awfully forwards young woman but then, the same thing in a man would be considered high spirited youth. 

He paused on the doorstep, hand lifted to knock. Would she think it his fault that she was run up out of town? Would she blame him for the knock to her good standing? Not that Alice had ever been a woman particularly concerned with her reputation, but it seemed to him somewhat more urgent now that she had been exiled from the town as a result of it. Odd though, that she was sent away now of all times. Her stubborn and proud spirit was no new event.

“You might as well come in,” her voice called from beyond the weathered door. “I can hear ya thinking.” He complied, swinging the door open to discover Alice sitting in an old kitchen chair in a sparsely furnished room. She was dressed plainly in clothes he knew were not her own, although they did not quite fit her small stature. She looked exhausted, curled up doing her knitting with a quilt on her lap. He had done this to her, had sent her here. 

“Alice, I’m so sorry my father did this,” he said, removing his boots as he spoke. No need to track dirt in, making more house work for poor Alice. She did not answer him but instead paused her knitting, setting it aside on a stool and looking for all the world as though she was afraid of him.

“Alice?” he asked. “Are you well?” Was she worried of his father finding that he had visited? He wasn’t meant to, but it was no transgression greater than that which they had already done.

“I have something to tell ya,” she said softly, eyes still focused on her newly empty hands. 

“What?” Her fear seemed to creep into him, to remind him that it was his legacy which kept her here today, his father’s insistence on his future. He had taken far too long to accept her into his heart and yet he knew that he had been changed permanently by the matter, that he would love her for all time.

“Come here,” she replied and as he drew closer she moved slightly, removing the heavy quilt from her lap to reveal a stomach grown round, the distinct swell that came with being with child clear. A baby.

Their baby. No wonder his love had been sent away, no wonder his father had fought so desperately against him visiting. It was as though the world shifted in the moment he realized and so while Alice had been his anchor every since he first let her in, there was something more now. He was a father.

Had it really been only a few moments since he entered? Everything was different now, everything he had to do was more urgent and important, and it seemed inconceivable that such a change had occurred so quickly. He had never understood before, never gotten what his father meant when he said to be a man was a great responsibility. He got it now. This was his child and the mother of his child and both of them would face heavy consequences if he did not shoulder his responsibilities.

“Alice,” he breathed. “Our baby.” He placed his hand upon her stomach, feeling the firm weight of her bump beneath her itchy clothes and looked up, making eye contact with her for the first time that day. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied and promptly burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?” God, he wasn’t prepared for her to be crying, not Alice. She was so full of light in ordinary times, always ready with a smile or a joke. 

“I’m just so relieved, m-my mother said that I would see what you really thought of me when you found out the news and I was worried—” here she broke up with a choking sob, curling forward into where he was stooped before her.

Oh Alice. How terrified she must have been, forced into a cabin in the middle of nowhere for two long months before he could find her whereabouts. All alone, pregnant, not knowing what her future held. The life of a bastard child and an unwed mother was not an easy one, if he had disregarded his duty to them.

“I’m so sorry, my father— I couldn’t find out where you were at first. I swear I’ve thought of you every day since then, you must have been frightened,” he hugged her close, kneeling down to ensure she was not pulled from her chair by his height. “I’m so excited to meet our child.”

He held her that way for a while, letting her cry into his arms until his knees grew painful and numb from the rough hewn floor and stayed there even then. She needed this, needed him, and he would be dammed if he let her down for his own comfort.

The months passed by in a blur. She was to remain in the secluded cabin for the duration of her pregnancy and for some time afterwards, so his life became a constant journey to and fro, enough public appearances to hide his frequent absences, arguments late at night about his future. He made the days journey every other week, happily taking the discomfort of the old train’s long ride through the mountains to be able to see her. There were arguments to be had of course, long screaming fights with his father where he was adamant that he would do right by his love and his father was adamant that the entire reason Alice was sent to the mountain cabin was so the father of her child was unknown.

The news came near the end of her pregnancy, in the form of yet another argument. Jasper was adamant that he would not leave his son a bastard child and Alice an unwed mother, his father adamant that she was using him and he needed to find a well bred wife and leave this messy business behind him as a tightly held secret. His father let it slip accidentally, while shouting that he would never permit them to marry. He had found an adopter for their child, a wealthy and agreeable family who would like to take the little one.

He had known his father was furious about the whole affair, but never had he expected he would stoop so low as to attempt to force the child to be adopted. That was his own flesh and blood, his firstborn child. A son, Alice was sure, although they did not yet know this for sure.

When he brought news of his fathers plan to Alice the next weekend she wept and he wept with her. He made her a promise that night, swearing to keep her hand in his, to love both of them for all time. He loved her and loved their son and no disproving parent would stop him from doing what a man needed to to provide for his family. They had not yet married, not with his father’s control of marriage certificates but such matters could be arranged. A public marriage right after the birth, a few more months spent in the cabin, and a baby they would swear had just been born.

There were plenty of such children in these parts, babies sworn up and down to be not yet a month old who a knowledgeable midwife would claim were closer to five or six months, who the women of the town pretended not to spy. Children born only five months after a hasty marriage yet claimed to be a full nine months. It was the way of life in these parts, and he held no fear that their ruse would be commented upon. The alternative was a bastard child and a destitute mother and so such affairs were not to be remarked upon. Babies were the age their parents claimed of them.

They would be just fine together. Jasper would provide of course, ensure his future wife and child were never destitute. This was the job of a man but it was one that brought him great joy and love, to know he could provide for his family, ensure their happiness. He understood his father’s teachings on what men must do much better now, for if he did not shoulder his commitment happily then it was only Alice and their son who would pay the price.

She was right, of course. Alice always was. Their child was born a smiling baby boy, a remarkably fine child with a happy smile and a firm grasp. He was healthy and grew quickly, a strong little baby.

He treasured each meeting with him, each weekend he could hold his son in his arms and feel the love all around. He would do right by this child, raise him as best he could. Odd, that it was considered a responsibility to do so when he was the greatest gift Alice could have ever given him.

As often as he was with them though, he was back in town just as much, disguising his absences and attending to the affairs of the town. He was to be mayor after all, after his father’s reign was over. There were some matters he must learn, some connections he had to forge despite how little he cared for time spent away from his family.

He should have known better than to trust when his father said he needed to journey to a nearby town, left him in charge. He had done a good job of covering his tracks and so Jasper thought nothing of the trip—there were politics in the mountains, other small towns that his father had to make agreements with, nonsense to be done. These such trips were a semi regular event, although often Jasper found himself being dragged along in preparation for when he would be the mayor.

And yet there was a sinking feeling when he spied the look on his father’s face when he returned, an air about him that was not befitting the affairs he claimed he was tending to. He knew his father, knew of his disproval of the situation. No, he had not gone to arrange any mere mountain affairs.

“I’ve handled the situation,” his father said when Jasper questioned him. “You don’t need to worry about this whole messy affair any longer.”

“The situation? My son is no situation,” Jasper replied. There was shock spreading through him and though he did not know yet what had transpired there was no doubt within his soul that something awful had happened, a precipice from which he could feel himself starting to plummet from.

“He is not your son, he’s a bastard child born to a troublesome girl looking to take advantage of you.” Not this same argument again. They had been through it a hundred times over, his father refusing to believe Jasper had chosen this of his own free will. He knew well what might occur when he held her in his arms that night, had followed his heart anyway. 

“She’s done no such thing, I chose my actions and I chose to take responsibility for them.”

“The only responsibility you should be choosing is what you owe to this town. You owe her nothing. The bastard has been given to a fine family who will raise him like their own.”

The news hit him like a locomotive, pushing the very air from his lungs. He knew his father had wished his child to be given up but Jasper had made his refusal very clear, had thought they were beyond this.

His son was gone.


	3. Heartbreaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter deals with loss of an infant as touched upon last chapter as well as brief descriptions of violence. These can be very upsetting topics so please use your best discretion as to reading. I am happy to provide more details as to the exact contents via PM if anyone is unsure if they are comfortable reading.
> 
> On a somewhat happier note follow me on tumblr! I'm jasper-is-a-snack over there. I'd also like to encourage everyone to listen to the musical Bright Star, whose plot I have shamelessly adapted to this story! Its a genuinely amazing musical that's so good it convinced me to care about a straight southern man named Jimmy-Ray which frankly should tell you all you need to know about how insanely good it is. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

The train ride there was a quiet one, the trip seeming far longer than he was accustomed to. He knew these mountains well, knew the dips and swells of land, the sharp rocky crags below rickety bridges. This was not a place to fall, not if you wanted to live, and yet the open train window seemed to call him to poke his head out, feel the quick breeze on his face.

His usual habit on the journey was a book clutched tightly in hand, a window closed and mostly ignored, an anxious excitement that grew with each mile they lurched closer to his love. Today was no such affair. He was completely taken over by fear, unable to concentrate even on on the folded square of a letter from his dear Alice, given to him almost a year ago now, before even their first dance together. Their only dance together.

The train tracks were the only flat land for miles around and yet he felt himself stumbling internally, as though onboard some great ship tossed about by a storm. There was no solid ground, no bedrock pillar on which to find his bearings. His son was gone, Alice’s whereabouts unknown. It had been six months since he first laid eyes upon her in the cabin, eleven since that first night she had appeared at his house to tell him of their future together. Had it really been less than a year? It seemed impossible. The very bedrock of his existence had changed, had sutured itself to his love for Alice, his love for their newborn son. There was no life without them, no joy, nothing left to live for.

There was of course, the possibility they could locate him together. His father had admitted during the night that the Brandon’s were there when they ripped her child from her arms, that her own father beat her for her desperate attempts to prevent them from leaving. His father was a hopeless case but the Brandons could be intimidated, could be persuaded to tell what they knew. A formal adoption would leave records, an informal one would leave gossipy town members. It would be the task of a lifetime and yet there was still hope there, still the possibility of fulfilling the promise he had made.

The alternative was too painful to think about. He found himself dwelling on his first glimpse of his son’s face, his tiny fat cheeks and happy smile. The weight of his baby within his arms. The sight of him learning, growing even on the two weeks he had with Alice and the two weekends Jasper had gotten to hold him. Less than four days with his only child and it hurt now, to think that he had spent so much time being trotted out like a horse at show to prove to the townspeople that he was not gone. His father cared so deeply about his frequent absences going unnoticed and yet Jasper too, was a father now. His time with his son so rare, so precious in the precarious position that they found themself in. He had thought of him each moment he was gone but it seemed ridiculous now to him, that he had dared to step away. That they were not together each precious moment, each chance to feel the weight of their love within his arms.

The trap which kept him away was still set, still closed tight around all he was like a bear trap in his spirit. A father in control of marriage certificates and Jasper’s ability to provide. A cabin designed to be isolated. A judgmental township. It was layers on layers he could not escape. It was not so simple as running, not when he had a wife and child to keep fed and warm. Not that she was his wife yet but well, she was the only love he would ever have. And they would be married, soon as they could find a pastor who’d do it for em.

When he at last arrived to the cabin, he knew before he stepped foot there was no Alice waiting inside. The dirt out front was torn up, scuffled with the marks of brawling he had so often seen about town. The door was ever so slightly ajar, shut by someone who had not particularly cared about it. She wasn’t here.

Still, he pushed through the door, hoping beyond hope that she would be waiting for him, that the sense of foreboding that grew deep within his bones was wrong. Alice was never wrong but he had no such talent. She could be right there, nestled on the threadbare bed, waiting for him. Ready to look up and say “Oh, I hadn’t seen you there. I missed you.” Ready to hold him in her arms, soothe away the anxiety and the fear.

Instead he found himself in a destroyed room. It had been sparsely decorated already, designed for those who were not considered valuable enough to deserve the hassle of bringing furniture onboard the train. Her months here had brought it some decoration—pressed flowers Alice had found on a walk, rocks from along the riverbank forming a cairn in the corner. Little touches of light she had brought in. They were trashed one and all, the larger items thrown into a haphazard heap in the corner of the room. The flowers were mangled, torn into tiny bits that were drifted on top of and around the pile. The furniture itself was nearly all on its side, kicked to strange places where it had never before found itself.

The scene was one of violence and yet Jasper could not turn away, could not lie to himself that perhaps he just missed Alice on the southbound train. It was a solemn affair, putting the furniture back in order, restoring her decorations to their previous state as best he could. Some could not be salvaged and so these he carefully scooped up, bringing them into the kitchen to dispose of them. The rest of the cabin appeared intact, freed from the leftover stains of the confrontation that had arisen.

There was no sign of Alice and it brought him painful memories of when she was last hidden away. He had looked for her as often as he could, thinking her to be avoiding him at first. Spending every day waiting by the town square in hopes that she would spy him there and give him a chance to make up for the offense he had seemed to unknowingly cause her. Eventually her mother took pity, informed him that she was off to visit family for some time. It had been weeks until he overheard his father’s whispered conversation, found that she had been sent away permanently. It still took him weeks longer to discover her location. There would be no slip up from his father this time, no chance of finding her if she was well and truly hidden.

He could not bring himself to leave the cabin yet, to leave the bed still faintly smelling of her. It was a personal torture, sleepless nights giving rise to nightmares. He spent his train ride back writing to every poorhouse he could think of, though the list was not long. One over in Raleigh, two over in Kentucky, another three in Virginia. She could be anywhere by train, though a young woman as small as herself traveling alone might be given some pause.

The months passed by slowly now, so empty was his life of the happy blur he had found during her pregnancy. He spent time searching for her of course, taking the railroad to any local place he could think she might have sought refuge in. The only sliver of a breakthrough came only when the Raleigh hospital responded: she was scheduled to be evaluated for distemper of the mind but her family wrote that she had run off and they could not locate her to bring her in. The news that she was gone of her own power brought him comfort indeed, though he often thought about what it meant that she did not write to him, did not leave a note tucked away at the cabin. He could not fault her for her desire to be rid of him after what his father had done and yet the knowledge felt like a white hot iron inside his gut.

He could find no traces of his son either, no family who would admit to taking in a child or who were known to have a child without a pregnancy. Jasper celebrated him of course. His first six months. His first year. The age he would be when he took his first baby steps. He drew sketches of the child of course, rough hewn images of how he looked when he first smiled at Jasper. How he felt when he cradled him in his arms. The only sure way he knew to identify the baby was the sweater Alice had painstakingly knitted as she waited, a soft blue affair she was was inspired by how the river flowed so sweetly when he was conceived. How often had she shown him the progress she had made, how she spent hours pouring love into each stitch. It was the only mark of them their child would have.

He would have outgrown it by now.

His father grew ill in time, spending days sick with fever, unable to even keep down the water Jasper so gently coaxed him into drinking. It was perhaps only for this reason that the letter made it to him.

My only love, it read. I write to you once more in hopes eventually one will make it to you. I wish more than anything I could have held you in my arms again but I had to escape before I was taken to Dix Hill Hospital and I could not do both. I love and miss you every day, just as I miss our son. I’m looking for him and I know I’ll find him soon. I’m in Asheville, though my exact positioning I dare not say in case this letter is intercepted like the so many before it. Come find me. Alice.

She had written to him. She had written to him often. How often had he shed tears for the want of his love? How many bruises had his father layered upon him for his fruitless trips? He had never journeyed so far as Asheville and yet he knew he would be on board the first train in the morning. How could he not?

He packed his suitcase immediately, turning over each item to determine if it was worth bringing with him. There was little space within and yet he would leave behind all he had ever known for her and he would do it happily. In the end he brought most of his working clothes and none of his limited finery. He would need to find employment of course, leaving no room for the fine shirt he had worn to their first night together, though it pained him greatly.

There was room enough as well for some bits of decorations he had: whittled wooden creatures, a few rocks she had picked from the stream on strolls and gifted to him, anything that would bring light to her eyes. There was no doubt that their home together would be plain and unassuming given their current lack of income but perhaps some small trinkets would lift her spirits and that was more important than any clothes upon his back.

When he had finished packing he reread the letter once more, tucking it neatly into his shirt pocket when he had done so. So this was it. He would see her once more, would find joy in his life again. She loved him still, wanted him by her. He could not leave her alone to wait any longer. It had been over a year of hopeless despair and so the weight lifted from his shoulders, gave rise to joy so powerful it rivaled any he had known before. Life had meaning once more, had hope, had something to live for.

There was the small matter of his father. The town physician was by regularly of course, a man of letters who would do well to tend to him. Not that his father cared for the pain he had caused but he still held no desire to see him perish without a minder. He was less feverish today, sound of mind enough to be told that Jasper was leaving without telling him where to find him. He was not strong enough now to stop him, not able to lift a hand as he had done so many times prior. He was weak, feeble, and Jasper hated that this was the only reason he felt sound in his ability to leave.

He moved quickly, putting his suitcase under the porch swing where his father would not think to look with his limited strength. Food, he had forgotten food for the journey. There were some offerings in the kitchen and so he arranged anything that would keep into a small bag, laying it down next to the suitcase and arranging his boots neatly to the left. It was only when the scene was perfectly hidden and orderly that he made the journey to his father’s sickbed where the man lay facing the wall.

“I’ll be leaving in the morning,” Jasper said to him, though he was not certain the man was awake. “I won’t be returning. I’ll inform the physician tonight to tend to you in the morning.”

“You can’t leave,” his father gasped, rolling to face him with a sickly choking sound. “You can’t leave me here alone.”

“You won’t be alone. The doctor will be here to check up on you more regularly, and we have food enough to last until you are well once more. I’ll remind him to check for it.”

“Did you find that girl?” His father asked. It was surprisingly insightful for a man who might not live to see the weekend and yet it stung that even now he would not call her by name.

“I found Alice, my future wife,” Jasper responded coldly. “And the mother of my child who you took from me. I intend to find him as well.”

“You’ll never find him,” and here there was a certain quality to his tone, a certain edge that Jasper could not put his finger on. “I did what a man had to do to protect you from her and you’re throwing it all away.”

“What did you do to him?” The dread that had filled him from his father’s last announcement crept back in, deja vu giving the corners of the room an odd feeling. “Where is he?”

His father only laughed with a horrible crackling sound, lungs sounding as though they were to give out any moment. He grabbed him then, raising his hand in violence against his father for the first time, fists grasping at his sweat soaked shirt as he raised him from a laying position to shove him against the wall behind him with a heavy thud as the man’s limp head made contact. 

“Tell me!” He could kill him in this moment, could give into the frightened anger that was coursing through him. It was so easy to remember the feeling of the man’s fingers tight around his throat, how frightened he had been as the air was squeezed from him. How long the bruises and pain had lasted. He could repay the man in kind right now and not think twice about declaring him dead from his illness. No, he could not throttle him until the man had spoken or he would never know peace from the fear that wound through him.

“I cast him out of the train as it passed over the river valley. I thought you would come to your senses when he was gone.”

Jasper’s fingers went slack upon the damp shirt as his words processed, hands limply falling away as he struggled to draw breath in the wake of this revelation that was too horrifying to even gasp.

It was almost unimaginable to begin to imagine his father’s words. To throw a two week old infant out of a moving train hundreds of feet in the air into a moving river. It was an evil he had never not for one moment believed his father to be capable of, a monstrosity beyond what he had even thought possible. His son was not missing. He was murdered.

“I’ve heard of evil,” Jasper’s voice came in a broken strangled tone, almost unrecognizable. “But you’re my flesh and blood, and he was yours as well. He was just a baby. He was my son.”

It was all he could do to stumble blindly out of the room in a haze. He found himself collapsing to the ground on the wooden porch, staring into the distance as he struggled to work though this wicked confession. The bright light of day faded into sunset and yet it seemed impossible for such a thing to occur, for the sky to be lit in gorgeous blazing colors above the mountains in the face of such overwhelming grief. Surely the world should pause in its tempo, the sun itself should mourn the senseless cruelty.

The world itself should stop to join in his mourning, should be after the sunsets to stay in the grey night of despair forever with him. There was no space here for beauty, no natural promise of the mountains when mankind was so deeply wicked. When the joy he had felt so briefly was snapped in the harshest way possible. When he was crumpled on the rough wood of the porch next to a suitcase packed full of hope.

As the light faded he remembered the letter tucked close above his heart. I’m looking for him and I know I’ll find him soon it said. How could he bring this news to Alice? How could he appear before her after a long year separated to tell him of the senseless and violent death of their child? No, he could not break her heart once more. Could not lie to her about the horrible cruelty of his own father. Could not tell her why he could not journey to her, why he would never be able to look into her eyes again and see hope reflected back at him. 

She deserved to think that their son would have outgrown the sweater she knitted for him. She deserved to celebrate his birthday each year despite his absence. She deserved to think he was being brought up by a fine respectable family, to have a good life without them. It would be cruelty beyond belief to tell her their only child had been thrown from a moving locomotive to die injured and alone, that his final breaths were screams of pain.

He had no choice but to stay here, in this town he hated so, to hope that one day she could learn to move on and find someone who could love her without killing her spirit and her child.

He brought the suitcase inside many hours later, resting it on the kitchen table with the food intended for his journey. The candles inside were still lit, although they doubtless were burning low. His life was over and yet he still had to extinguish candles. He hesitated before he entered his fathers room, unsure he could face the man but working exclusively on routine memory that demanded he blow it out. 

He needn't have hesitated. The man was dead, still sitting upright where Jasper had left him, eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling, blood smeared round the back of his skull. Where it was the illness or the force of his head against wall that took him Jasper could not tell and he found that he did not particularly care. It was beyond him to clean up the body in that moment, to cleanse the blood from him and lay him back down for the doctor to inspect. He left it there, choosing instead to stagger to the pitch black kitchen and stare into the darkness until morning came and sleep overtook him as he watched the first light of day.

When he awoke the thick gauze of shock that had protected him last night was gone and the reality of his situation sunk in, so painful it felt as though sandpaper against his skin.

He was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an epilogue coming up soon, however it has been delayed indefinitely due to the senseless cruelty of the universe. Sorry.


End file.
